A Quiet Planting

I trotted down the sidewalk to inspect the community garden borders. Beneath the low boughs of an oak, a plump acorn lay separated from its rough textured cup. It was glossy, amber-striped, and firm to the touch. Instead of aligning it against a fence post, I surveyed the bed of dark, crumbly loam beside the timber frame. Advancing with measured strides, I excavated a neat pocket using alternate strokes of my forepaws. I nudged the smooth nut into the trench, setting its tapered end downward into the damp grit. With deliberate weight, I swept the earth back over the seam and pressed the mound completely level beneath both paws. A living post is established.